RS/Fight for you

[thegentlemanthug]

The feeling of conquering the world lasted about a week. For those seven days, Bennet Drake felt like he could do anything and that having Homer Jackson by his side and in his bed was the purpose of his existence. He had never been happier.

But it was tainted by the state of his rooms, his attire, the way Homer would casually lay down a bottle of liquor that Drake couldn't afford. The bed was too cramped for two grown men - too cramped for one, truth be told - and the lodgings in total were made for one. Drake knew Mrs Ramsey was freeing up the attic room, moving on the opium smokers who were behind in their rent, but he couldn't hope to match the cost from his Seageant's wage.

He couldn't admit to Homer that he'd lured him from Miss Susan's luxury to something less than a pauper's life. Homer Jackson wasn't made to be a bobby's wife any more than Miss Rose.

There was one way that he could make a little extra, maybe enough to meet Mrs Ramsey's attic rent, to buy a bigger bed and any little luxury Homer should desire.

So Drake went down to the docks, sniffing around for the scent of a bare-knuckle fight where he could try his luck. It's well past midnight before he staggers home, bruises and cuts dressed clumsily and pockets weighed down with shillings fresh-won from the fight.

Comments

[thirstforvice]

Jackson is still wide awake when Drake returns, wouldn't dream of going to sleep with his lover still out and at large. The later it gets, the more sure he is that Drake's got himself involved in a pub brawl, or something worse, and he's about to go out and find him himself when he finally appears.

"What happened to you?" he demands in way of greeting, hands already reaching out to try and find and tend the injuries.

[thegentlemanthug]

"Nothing," Drake says immediately, but knows his face gives him the lie.

"Just a spot of bother over by the docks." And that's all Jackson needs to know about it.

[thirstforvice]

"Tell me what happened," Jackson presses as he guides Drake towards the weak light of their small lamp.

"And let me look at you."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake is too exhausted and punch-drunk to resist, allowing Jackson to sit him down beside the lamp.

"It's nothing," he repeats, but already knows it is in vain. Homer is worse than a mother hen for fussing.

[thirstforvice]

"You've been beaten," Jackson states, the signs obvious to him.

"Who did this to you?"

[thegentlemanthug]

"Don't know." That wasn't exactly a lie - the names all merged into one after the fourth or fifth bout.

"It's just a couple of scrapes." That was closer to deceit - the bruises over his ribs alone merited bandaging and he could feel the grazes on his back oozing blood.

[thirstforvice]

"Let me look," Jackson demands, dropping the topic of who the attackers were... for now. He hasn't forgotten, and he will find out.

Gently, he tries to start undressing Drake, needing a better idea of what he's dealing with, what he needs to fix.

[thegentlemanthug]

At first, Drake resists, but soon gives up the fight. The man is sharing his bed - he'll see the marks sooner or later.

"It don't hurt or nothing." Even to his own ears, he doesn't sound convincing.

[thirstforvice]

"Save your lies for Reid," Jackson shakes his head as he gently helps Drake off with his shirt. He inspects the bruises with delicate, doctor's fingers, trying his best not to cause any undue pain to his lover.

"Tell me honest, now, where is the pain worst?"

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake hisses as Jackson's hands skate over his ribs.

"Right about there," he confesses, reluctantly.

[thirstforvice]

"I need to bind this," Jackson tells his lover, his patient, moving away to reach for his effects. Thankfully, he keeps a basic medical kit with him at home.

"Or else the pain will not improve."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake patiently waits for his doctor to fix him up - again. He's mostly just relieved Jackson's stopped asking question.

"Whatever you say, 'omer."

[thirstforvice]

Taking out bandages, Jackson starts to slowly bind his lover's ribs, trying his best to be gentle and firm at the same time.

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake raises his arm, finding a convenient place to rest them on Homer's shoulders. His bruised and scraped knuckles hang behind the doctor's head, concealed from view.

[thirstforvice]

Taking advantage of the position, Jackson presses his lips gently to Bennet's before carrying on with his medical duties, using up the roll of bandage to support his lover's bruised and broken ribs.

"Can you breathe easy?" He asks when the deed is done, wanting to make sure he has not made the bandages too restrictive.

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake kisses him again, deep and slow.

"A little breathless," he teases, leaning in for another kiss. Distraction is the only way to dodge Jackson's questions - and Drake's enjoying it.

[thirstforvice]

"From the binding, or...?" Jackson grins, letting the question hang with a smirk on his lips, before opening them against Bennet's own. His hands rub along the other man's shoulders, warm and soothing.

[thegentlemanthug]

"S'definitely my doctor's doing," Drake says, teasing, his hands pressing into Jackson's back. He loves the feel of his lover's hands over his bare skin, knows he'll never get tired of it.

[thirstforvice]

"Be gentle, now," Jackson warns, pulling back a little as Drake gets handsy.

"You are in no state for... that."

[thegentlemanthug]

But Drake is not so easily deterred, following Jackson as he moves away.

"Fought battles with worse than this," he boasts with a grin.

[thirstforvice]

"That may well be the case, darlin', but I bet you didn't go home to a fair maiden in your bed," Jackson smiles fondly, forcing an end to the encounter by standing himself up and helping Drake onto his feet as well.

"You need your rest. We'll have our fun some other time, don't you worry."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake hisses as he stands, ruining the illusion of his fitness for anything other than sleeping in their bed.

The shillings in his pocket will go halfway to buying a new one, and the bout on Saturday will seal the deal.

"You my fair maiden now?" he teases, drunk on victory.

[thirstforvice]

"As far from as you'll ever get," Jackson grins as he helps Drake over to the bed. He knows, already, that he will be sleeping in the chair tonight. He should really devise a plan to remove the bed from his old rooms at Long Susan's.

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake has other ideas, holding on firm to Jackson's hand after he lies down.

"Come to bed?"

[thirstforvice]

"I'll only hurt you, Bennet," Jackson points out. "You don't need no elbow in the ribs, not tonight."